Kryptonite
by Ty3
Summary: Sequel to Who's Got You? Lindy, the supernatural reporter now has a Jimmy Olsen style sidekick and together their about to stir things up for our favorite brothers. Set between The Usual Suspects and Crossroad Blues.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a sequel to my fic Who's Got You?. You should read that one first. Please review. They help me breathe.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing you recognize, but the originals are all mine, mwahahaha! Also, this fic would not be possible without the help of my partner in crime, DanieWinchester.

Rating: T for language and sexual references and situations

Kryptonite

"Damn it!" I swear vehemently.

I had the presence of mind to snap a picture when a very angry spirit was barreling down on me and now I couldn't get the damn thing to develop clearly. No matter how many times I tried, the picture continued to come out as a light blur, easily picked apart by critics as a camera flare. It was infuriating! And after six tries, I just don't have enough patience left to try it again. In fact, I'm more inclined to go find that damn ghost's grave and give it a piece of my mind for being such a pain in my ass.

Storming out of the make-shift dark room and slamming the door after me, I stomp across the motel room. Brennan glances up from where she's sprawled across a motel bed, munching on Cheerio's from the box and rapidly flipping through the channels on the television. The girl has some serious attention span issues.

"Give up?" she asks without looking away from the TV.

I just growl in response. I should have known that if Brennan, a photographer by trade, couldn't get the picture to come out, I wouldn't be able to either, but I just had to try. Maybe because I'm still not used to having a partner and I still sort of feel like I should do everything myself. Brennan was only assigned as my photographer about a month ago. Before that I'd been on my own, traveling around the country looking for anything supernatural that I could make a story out of. But now that I'm _Paranormal Monthly_'s lead reporter, I've got a photographer, a Jimmy Olsen to travel with me.

"So, does that mean you're ready to go to the bar?" Brennan ventured, setting the Cheerio box on the floor and finally looking away from the television.

Rather than respond, I grab my jacket and start pulling it on. Brennan immediately leaps up from the bed and hurries to grab her own jacket and follow me out. Pretty much everything about Brennan is in contrast to me. Her hair is medium length, spiky, and brown while mine is long and blonde and painfully straight. She's spunky and upbeat as if she's got caffeine in her blood twenty-four/seven. I'm more reserved, pretty much obsessed with my work and much more introverted. Even how we're dressed sets us apart. She's wearing a red pleather jacket to my black, a halter-top that exposes her stomach to my plain T-shirt, a short skirt and tights to my jeans. She likes to dress up when we go to bars, even if they are podunk little places where ghost hunters hang out. She loves being the center of attention and starting fights, while I like to just fade into the crowd and casually talk up the clientele. We've had a few arguments over our differences in approach on that account already. Plus, it doesn't help that she's British and the accent immediately draws attention anyway. Actually, it's really something of a miracle that we've pretty much gotten along so far, although I'm still getting used to her and I'm sure she's still adjusting to me and this lifestyle, as well.

Ever since I ran into Sam and Dean Winchester about seven months ago, my signature style as a reporter has been to tag along with hunters to get their take as well as my own. In addition, going on hunts with hunters almost invariably assures that I'll find something substantial. The only problem is that hunters are inherently distrustful and hard to pin down. Finding another hunter that would let me go with them after Sam and Dean was damn near as difficult as tackling that fear demon. But now it's gotten easier. The hunters have started to trust me, are used to me showing up at their stomping grounds and have even given me a few names and places to find more stories. Plus, tossing out the Winchesters' name seems to work miracles. Just about everyone seems to know about them. And yet, I've still yet to see anything of them or even hear more than the passing comment of "Oh, yeah, I heard those boys were over in Colorado/Ohio/Louisiana last" from anyone. I try not to let it bother me, try to focus even more on the job and not think about how much I want to see Dean again. But Brennan is constantly asking about them and it doesn't help matters. So, every time we start a new story, head into another bar, my chest constricts and I search the room for any sign of a tall man with shaggy brown hair and a laptop or the cocky, smart alec with a popped collar whose been haunting my dreams. And every time I don't see them, my heart sinks and I head straight for the bar.

The one good thing about not seeing the Winchesters all this time is that I've had a chance to hone my own hunting skills. There's just no way for me to tag along on these hunts without becoming involved and I think that I'm starting to get kind of good at it. Even Brennan, who seems generally unphased by anything the world can throw at her, was kind of surprised by my hunting abilities when we went on that first hunt together and discovered a coven of vampires. In fact, I believe her exact words were, "Bloody hell, girl! Those were real freaking vampires and you kicked their arses!" But the point is that hopefully when I do run into the Winchester brothers again, they'll be impressed.

My car decides to behave tonight and start without any issues. Well, beyond the continued presence of the check engine light and my completely unreliable gas gauge telling me that I have no gas when I just filled the tank yesterday. But I've gotten good at ignoring those little quirks by now. As long as it still runs, I consider the situation a win.

Brennan takes charge of the tunes. One thing we actually have in common is enjoyment of a rather wide range of musical genres. Yesterday, we made the drive into town while blasting the soundtrack from the Broadway musical Rent. Tonight, she's apparently in the mood for Pat Benatar, which is perfectly fine with me.

'_You're love is like a tidal wave, spilling over my head_.' Pat sings and I repress a sigh because the song makes me think about Dean. That boy most certainly is a heartbreaker. I shake my head at myself and focus on the road, taking us the relatively short distance from the motel to the bar.

About three songs later, I pull into the parking lot and get us a spot as close to the building as possible. The two of us climb out of the car and head for the door. Brennan bumps my shoulder with hers and sends me a grin, silently telling me to cheer up, loosen up, have some fun. She thinks I'm too serious. I roll my eyes at her in response and she shrugs and moves on ahead of me, flouncing into the bar first. I enter a few seconds later, but still in time to see every head in the place turn to look at my photographer. I roll my eyes a second time and stick my hands in my pockets. I tell myself not to, but I can't help but let my eyes wander around the room, looking for a familiar face.

"Hey, Lindy..." Brennan has turned to ask me something, but my mouth drops open as my eyes land on a face I really wasn't expecting to actually see.

"Oh my god." I gasp, freezing where I stand.

"Lindy?" Brennan asks.

I don't answer. I can't. I'm not in control of myself. My brain seems to have shut down as my body acts on its own, making me fly across the room. The next thing I know, I'm looking into the startled hazel eyes of Dean Winchester, my legs wrapped around his waist and my lips locked on his.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry about the delay. Minor computer emergency followed by a case of writer's block. You guys know how it goes. Anyway, my partner in crime, DanieWinchester, has decided to help me with her character, Brennan, and has also decided that as aspiring amateur bartenders, we should include a drink of the chapter in this fic. You know, instead of song lyrics or a quote at the beginning, we'll have a kind of shot or cocktail. I, of course, caution any readers who are under-age that it's illegal for you guys, so don't do it. And, of course, everyone should drink responsibly. But, if you're being safe and you're legal, feel free to try out some of these recipes. They are real drinks from my Bartender's Pocket Guide.

A/N2: This chapter is in Dean's POV. I liked hopping around from one perspective to another in Who's Got You?, so this fic will be written the same way.

Leg Stretcher:

15 ml (1/2 oz) Malibu

15 ml (1/2 oz) vodka

15 ml (1/2 oz) Midori

1 splash pineapple juice

1 splash lemon-lime soda

ice cubes

Shake Malibu, vodka, Midori and pineapple juice with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail, pony or rocks glass. Top up with soda.

I stumble backwards slightly, my back hitting the bar behind me before I regain my balance. First thought to penetrate my brain: holy shit, I should get greeted like this more often! Second thought to penetrate my brain: holy shit, Lindy!

To say that I haven't thought about her would be a lie. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's not like I was pining or anything. But she was cool and cute and yeah, so I wondered why she never called. But whatever, it's not like I was waiting up at night for the phone to ring or anything. I guess I figured that she'd moved on with her life, figured I'd never see her again. But here she is, clearly more than happy to see me so maybe I was wrong.

"Well, hello to you, too. Guess I don't need to ask if you missed me." I say when we separate slightly for air.

She turns slightly red and her eyes are suddenly locked on the ground as she sheepishly untangles herself from me and returns her feet to the floor. Her embarrassment reminds me of when I first met her, how shy she was around me. That hadn't lasted long and I'm sure this won't either, but it's still fun to tease her about it. So, I keep my hands on her waist and continue to smirk at her. I'm also aware of the fact that just about every set of eyes in this place is on us, but I'm not concerned. It's not like I haven't been the center of attention before.

"Oi, Lindy!" a British accent catches my attention as a short, slim brunette hurries over, "What the hell was that?"

Lindy turns a darker shade of red. I grin past her at the brunette, passively noticing that she's pretty hot, "And who is this?"

Before Lindy can answer, the British chick sticks her hand out and proclaims herself, "Brennan, photographer for the _Paranormal Monthly_. And you must be Dean Winchester."

"I must be, huh? What have you been telling her about me?" I ask Lindy with a raised eyebrow.

Brennan eyes me up and down with absolutely no shame, "Boxers man. I like that."

My eyes widen and fly to Lindy, "What? But...we've never...how does she...?"

Lindy shrugs, "Brennan knows stuff."

"What else have you told her?" I demand.

"That's between me and my photographer." Lindy says, regaining her composure and looking up at me with a grin, "Where the hell have you been these past months, Dean?"

I step back from her, letting my hands fall back to my sides. A lot has happened since I last ran into Lindy. We'd found dad and then lost him, we'd had a chance at wasting the yellow-eyed demon and lost it, too. And to top it all off, something crazy is going on with Sam that I don't even have figured out yet. Yeah, things have pretty much gone to hell since we left Lindy outside Fort Tucker. So, I definitely don't want to get into all of that. Instead, I flash her a smile and a casual shrug, "Same old. What's going on with you?"

I'm not about to admit to her that I've been reading her articles, that I know she's been tracking hunters and tagging along with them on their hunts. I'm still undecided on how I feel about that. On the one hand, it worries me that she's getting involved with hunters. We tend to have short lifespans. On the other, I'd rather she have someone around who knows how to handle themselves in the face of evil than out there on her own. The one time Sam caught me reading an article and grumbling about it, he claimed that I'm just jealous. Shows what Sam knows. But to avoid further annoying comments from him, I'd read the rest of her articles when he wasn't around.

Lindy's eyes narrow slightly as she looks at me, indicating that she's knows I'm avoiding answering her, but she thankfully lets it go.

"Well, my editor liked the story I did on you guys so much that he decided that I should make that my signature style. I've been teaming up with some different hunters for the past months. Brennan and I just finished a gig with a poltergeist nearby. We heard this was a good place to find hunters and thought we'd stop by to find another story." Lindy explains.

I glance around me at the rest of the clientele of the Roadhouse. Yeah, if any place is a good place to find hunters, this is it. I suddenly notice that Ellen is glaring at me from behind the bar. I guess she's not too pleased with the scene we've created. I ignore her and turn my attention back to Lindy. My eyes run over her, noticing that her hair's even longer than I remember, pulled back in a long pony tail. She seems tougher, more toned than I remember, too. Guess she hasn't been sitting on the sidelines for these hunts. Not that I would ever expect her to. Not this girl.

"Well, why don't we get some drinks and have a seat. Brennan, this sasquatch is my brother, Sam." I say, waving a hand over my shoulder at Sam.

Sam smiles shyly and shakes hands with Brennan. Brennan eyes my brother from her much shorter stature with a look on her face that makes me chuckle. Something tells me my brother may be in for a little trouble from that one.

"God, Sam!" Lindy says as if she's just realized that she hasn't greeted him yet.

She rushes past me and enfolds Sam in a big hug that he returns. I roll my eyes and wait for them to pull apart so we can go grab a table.

"Hey, Lindy." Sam says, smiling warmly at the top of the reporter's head.

"Sam," Lindy says, pulling away and looking up at him, "how are you? How have you been?"

"I'm okay." Sam says with the same vague nonchalance as I'd answered her earlier, "It's good to see you again."

"You, too." Lindy nods, "I missed you guys."

I want to ask why she didn't call us then, but I don't. Instead I just sigh dramatically at their exchange and ask, "Okay, so who's ready for some shots?"

"I take it your buying?" Brennan says, eyeing me with a grin.

"You kidding?" I reply. I clap Sam on the shoulder, "It's all on Sam."

"What?" Sam coughs.

"Gorgeous!" Brennan says at the same time, spinning on her heel and heading for the bar. She waves at Sam, "Come on, Sam. Ever have a Leg Stretcher? Not that you need it."

I glance back as Brennan bites her lip and eyes my little brother slyly, "I do love a challenge I can climb."

I nearly choke at that and Sam actually has a coughing fit which Brennan ignores as she orders drinks. I glance at Lindy for an explanation, but she just shakes her head as if it's impossible to explain her photographer. I don't know what the hell Brennan's getting for us, but nothing alcoholic scares me. Although, given that Ellen really is pissed at me, I probably should be scared. It hasn't been all that long since Jo took off and Ellen allowed us back in here. If I were smart, I probably wouldn't push the envelope with Ellen. But there's smart and then there's doing shots with two hot girls. Yeah, where are those shots?

Lindy and I fall into seats opposite each other at one of the tables scattered around the bar. She's barely taken her eyes off me since she jumped me when she walked in and I wonder what the heck is going through her brain. While we wait for Sam and Brennan to return, I decide to try and get her to open up a little so that I can try and figure out exactly where things are with the two of us. We'd sort of left things at kind of an awkward place.

"So, fallen from any more ceilings since last I saw you?"

Lindy smiles and shakes her head, "No, I've been trying to cut back."

I laugh lightly at her response, "Good."

"You still getting thrown into walls on a regular basis?" Lindy teases, her eyes sparkling with humor as she looks up at me with a coy twist to her lips.

I lean back in my seat and spread my hands helplessly, "What can I say? Walls and I are just meant to be."

Lindy grins in response, but I sense her stiffen slightly at my words. I watch her closely and notice her eyes flick downwards as she fidgets in her seat. So, apparently I'm not the only one who remembers how we'd left things. My smile widens a little with that knowledge. She totally still digs me. I'd lay odds on the fact that she keeps the weapons I gave her close, probably has one on her right now.

Before I can do any further investigating into Lindy's continued feelings for me, Sam and Brennan return, carrying a tray full of alcohol. Lindy snatches a shot off the tray and downs it before Sam can even set the tray on the table. I laugh and take one myself. Finally, things are looking up for a change.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry about the delay. My laptop is the devil. This is Sam's POV in this chapter. Oh, and it has also occurred to me that I have not specified the exact setting for this fic. This occurs somewhere between The Usual Suspects and Crossroad Blues in the 2nd Season. If anything else is not clear, please let me know.

Orgasm:

22 ml (3/4 oz) amaretto

22 ml (3/4 oz) Kahlua

22 ml (3/4 oz) Bailey's Irish Cream

ice cubes

Shake the ingredients with ice and strain into a shot glass.

I don't know where Lindy found this girl, but she is nuts! I mean, I thought Lindy was kind of crazy when I first met her what with the driving stunts and everything, but compared to Brennan, Lindy is about as stable as they come. I've known this feisty brunette for about five minutes and already she's made about three innuendos, checked me out twice, checked out my brother once, and ordered enough alcohol in one go to ensure that none of us will be driving home from this bar. She's worse than Dean!

The bartender arranges the last few drinks Brennan has ordered onto a tray and slides it down the bar to me. I carefully pick the tray up and follow Brennan over to the table where Lindy and Dean are sitting. Before I can even set the tray down on the table, Lindy snatches a shot and downs it. I raise an eyebrow and wonder what they've been talking about to cause that response. My eyes shift to Dean who just laughs and reaches for a drink also.

Lindy coughs as the alcohol sears down her throat. She reaches for a glass of something else and takes a sip before looking over at Brennan, "Brennan, what the hell was that?"

Brennan shrugs and drops into the chair next to Lindy, "Orgasm."

Dean smirks around his glass, "I think you're supposed to work up to that."

Brennan tilts her head to the side and grins wickedly, "That's what she said."

For the second time tonight, Brennan makes me choke. This time it's on my first swallow of beer, which is now reeking havoc on the insides of my nasal passages. Dean slaps me on the back a couple of times, as if that might help, until I wave him away. The last thing I need is damaged sinuses and a bruised back. Brennan's still smirking at me as she slides a glass of water my way. I take a slow sip and gradually the burning in my nose fades away.

"Thanks." I tell her.

"You're welcome." she replies, nodding her head. She turns to include everyone at the table, "Alright, now that Sam's not dying, I want to know everything. Lindy has this nasty habit of not wanting to share the juicy details unless it's for the story. I want the behind the scenes."

I think back on that hunt with the fear demon and a shudder runs down my spine. I've tried not to think about what happened on that hunt. I haven't even talked to Dean about it. With Dad gone and Dean barely handling it, I haven't had a chance to deal with my own issues. No, I'll deal with that after this hunt is finally over. Maybe after I avenge Mom and Jess I can stop worrying that it's my fault to begin with.

A silence has fallen over the table at Brennan's question. She glances around at all of us and then sighs dramatically, "Okay...or not."

"Brennan, I told you to just leave it alone." Lindy says quietly to her friend.

Brennan just crosses her arms grumpily over her chest, unhappy at being denied the inside scoop. I can only imagine how it must feel to be the outsider at this table. Lindy's only been on that one hunt with Dean and I, but that's really all it takes to form this weird bond. We narrowly escaped death together. There's just no changing that. Still, I feel bad that Brennan's being angled out of the group and decide to throw her bone.

"What about you, Brennan? What's your story?" I ask.

Brennan's eyes light up at that as if she's been waiting this whole time for someone to ask. She takes a beer off the tray and downs a little before she answers.

"Well, since you asked...I'm a native Londoner, as you may have guessed."

"Why'd you come to the states?" Dean queries.

Brennan smiles, "I was in an airport, I closed my eyes and pointed at a flight. Ended up in Albuquerque. Let me tell you, you do not want to go to Albuquerque."

"Then what?" Sam asks, "How'd you meet Lindy?"

Lindy rolls her eyes and mutters, "She loves this story."

Brennan ignores her, "Well, once I got the hell out of bloody Albuquerque I started picking up odd jobs. I have a bit of an attention problem. Hard for me to stay in a job for more than a few months before I get bored. So, after I got tired of the clubs in Vegas, I decided to move to San Diego and got a job posing as the Black Cat at a comic book convention. I ran into some editors for _Paranormal Monthly_. Photography has always been a hobby of mine and those boys were just nice enough to offer me a job working with Lindy. Turns out she needed a photographer crazy enough to follow her around the country. Sounded like fun."

While she's talking, Brennan's foot has been sliding up my leg. I fidget in my seat and casually try to pull away. Brennan raises her eyebrows at me as she finishes her story and lets her foot fall back to the floor.

"Wow, so Brennan," Dean says in that tone he likes to use to pick up chicks that half the time damn near gets him smacked instead, "do you still have that Black Cat outfit?"

Brennan turns her raised eyebrows on my brother, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Dean nods solemnly, "Yes. Yes, I would."

Brennan laughs, rolls her eyes and does another shot. Lindy has been fairly quiet this whole time. I transfer my gaze to her and notice that she's staring resolutely into her glass, a frown tugging at her lips. I don't know what's eating at her, but apparently it's something. I know it would just upset her if I asked her in front of my brother, so I don't say anything. I'll talk to her later when Dean and Brennan aren't within earshot. It strikes me as I'm looking at Lindy that in this group, she and I are a lot alike whereas Dean and Brennan are practically peas in a pod. Lindy and I are more withdrawn, introspective, while Dean and Brennan are outgoing almost to a fault, they say whatever they think without hesitation, regardless of what other people might think of them. It's something I love and hate about my brother and I wonder if Lindy might not feel the same way about Brennan. Then again, Lindy and Brennan have only been working together for a short time, maybe Lindy's still not completely comfortable with this newcomer in the ranks. Who knows? I push it to the back of my mind to deal with later. Dean has coaxed Brennan into talking about her exploits as a dancer in Vegas and despite myself, I can't help but listen intently as my mind creates all kinds of mental pictures about what that might have looked like. I am male, after all.

"...So, I was thinking to myself, where does a person get a pair of backless chaps? Apparently, in Vegas, every other store on the strip has a pair." Brennan says with a slight chuckle.

Dean and I are both lost in own thoughts a good thirty seconds after Brennan has finished talking. Lindy snaps us out of it by quietly saying, "Be right back" and slipping away from the table. I look after her as she wanders away from the table and towards the jukebox, then transfer my gaze to Dean. Dean raises an eyebrow at me questioningly, so I jerk my head towards Lindy, trying to wordlessly tell the idiot that he should go talk to her. Dean's brow furrows as if he has no idea what I'm trying to say. I sigh in exasperation. We can not speak a word and he'll know when I want him to circle around behind a creature we're hunting to get the drop on it, but try and tell the moron that he should go see what's bothering the girl he likes and he's completely clueless.

"He wants you to go talk to her." Brennan says, startling me a little.

Well, apparently even Brennan got what I was trying to say. Nice job, Dean.

"Wh...?" Dean begins to ask.

"Dean." I cut him off, "Go."

"Fine." Dean grumbles, grabbing another shot and downing it before he heads towards Lindy across the room.

No doubt he's afraid he'll get pulled into a chick-flick moment. Dean's like that.

Brennan pulls my eyes back to her by leaning across the table towards me.

"Finally, just you and me, Sam." she says with a feral smile.

I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. I'm not sure if that's good or bad.


End file.
